KEVIN GALLAGHER: Saying goodbye – then hello – to man’s best friend

Gracie and I had come to this beach for the last time. The cancer that manifested itself in her leg and had been surgically removed twice was back, this time in her lungs and beyond. The veterinarian told us there was nothing that could be done but love her and keep her comfortable.

By Kevin A. Gallagher

The Patriot Ledger, Quincy, MA

By Kevin A. Gallagher

Posted Jun. 15, 2013 at 12:01 AM
Updated Jun 15, 2013 at 3:11 PM

By Kevin A. Gallagher

Posted Jun. 15, 2013 at 12:01 AM
Updated Jun 15, 2013 at 3:11 PM

COMMENTARY

» Social News

The walk from the parking lot to the beach took us longer than usual. In years past, she would bolt from the car down the path with the occasional look over her shoulder to make sure I was still there. I was always there. But on this day I wanted to be anywhere but there.

Gracie and I had come to this beach for the last time. The cancer that manifested itself in her leg and had been surgically removed twice was back, this time in her lungs and beyond. The veterinarian told us there was nothing that could be done but love her and keep her comfortable.

So there we were, on a cold Sunday in March, taking in the sights and smells of our favorite spot. We traveled these sands countless times, braving the crowds of summer and the desolation of winter. That day we were alone, which helped hide my tears and her limp. One last walk into the water, her tail wagging in circles the entire time. One last roll in the most disgusting smelling clump of seaweed she could find. One last drive home dripping sand and salt water onto the front passenger seat, head out the window, snorting into the wind. In less than a week we made the decision for her. Her pain was over, ours grew heavier.

In January I wrote of our journey. The beloved golden retriever who pulled me from despair, stayed for some ups and many downs and finally got to celebrate the life we both wanted. What started out as an essay for my children to read in years to come was shared with the readers of this newspaper. I knew I was sharing more than I ever shared before but was told by a friend that our story would be well-received, appreciated by many and therapeutic for a few.

As my family prepared for what we knew was in store for our friend, we were simply not prepared for what happened next. The comments on the newspapers website that were so supportive. The cards that found their way to our house, many including the poem “The Rainbow Bridge,” which can bring a tear to a dog lover’s eye faster than “Danny Boy” can an Irish one. The calls at work from a lovely lady from Brockton who had a golden, lost it and still grieves. The letter that included $5 for a box of biscuits to make our girl feel better, which we gave her despite her diet.

The most surprising, and beautiful, expression of support came from a gentle soul from Quincy who contacted us and wanted to share special oil, named for a saint and said to bestow recuperative powers for believers. Before I hung up the phone I knew I would travel north to meet him, not because of the oil as much as the hope he put into words, hope I wanted to cling to but found evaporating each day. Our meeting was brief but memorable.

Page 2 of 2 - From his wheelchair he told me how he once was an emergency medical technician, disabled by an on-the-job injury back in the days when our disability protection wasn’t as good as it is now. He wanted me to have the special oil, follow the directions and pray for positive results. His openness, passion and caring for a stranger who was grieving aloud the soon to be passing of his pet was more than I expected.

The loss in my heart was being acknowledged by a brother who had suffered a much greater loss. A life lesson was being taught to me and my family once again and Gracie, once again, was a big part of it.

During Gracie’s illness I could not tolerate discussions of getting a new dog. I didn’t buy into the argument that some expressed that it would make the future easier for the kids, the new dog could help in transition, that Gracie would want it that way. I know a little something about loyalty, and just thinking about diverting any remaining time from the old to the new was too much for me to bear. This dog stood by me through thick and thin. She deserved, and received, the same.

Within a few weeks it became apparent that the hole in our family’s heart was not going away. The loss was palpable, especially for my wife, Cindy. Gracie had been her constant companion from the time the doctor told her to stop work due to her pregnancy, over eight years earlier. They had formed a special bond forged during the chaotic early days of life with twins. Gracie was often the other adult in the house. Moms get it. This dad eventually came to understand.

So when my wife told me she was ready to look for a dog, a statement that was seconded by the kids, it passed unanimously. Our travels took us to Connecticut, to a home-based breeder of golden retrievers. One look at the love that filled their home, the sound of laughter from children and the faces of eight adoptable puppies sealed the deal.

Earlier this week, the walk from the parking lot to the beach was covered in bouncing steps. Abbie, our precocious 8-week-old golden retriever, sniffed, ran, swam and slept. Every beach-related item was experienced for the first time. The coldness of March has faded to the warmth of June. Goodbye has yielded to hello. The sequel to a great story is being written.